


with two hands

by damnmysterytome



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnmysterytome/pseuds/damnmysterytome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of prompted drabbles surrounding frank, karen, and matt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kastledevil + “You better have a good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn.” prompt asked by anonymous

Karen sits up way before she had wanted to wake up when she hears a loud crash in the kitchen and knowing the men she keeps in her company, she’s out of bed before she can really wake up. Gun in hand, Karen slowly pulls open the sliding door from the bedroom to the rest of the apartment. The noises of a mixer catch her attention and she peaks out a bit. Nothing. Calm. What the hell?

She sets the gun back inside the table by the drawer and shuts it before she leaves the bedroom, arms crossed over her chest. 

“You better have a good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn.” Karen stops when she sees the sight in the kitchen. Frank’s at the stove and Matt’s standing at the counter by him. Their backs are to her so she has no idea what the two of them are up to. Besides making a mess and waking her up. 

The two of them realize that Karen’s there and Frank cranes his head back around to look at Karen and he grins sheepishly. “Did we wake you?” 

Karen sets a glare towards Frank’s direction but his grin doesn’t fall at all. “I don’t need to see to know the look she’s giving you.” Matt comments with a grin and, with skill that still surprises Karen sometimes, comes towards her and his lips find her cheek. “Happy birthday.” He says softly and Karen turns her head to look at Matt. 

She had been so wrapped up in work and balancing the life of someone who was dating two vigilantes that she had completely forgotten her birthday, but somehow the two of them were able to remember. She scoffs and brings her hand to Matt’s face before leaning over to press her lips into his. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Matt mumbles against her lips. 

“Hey, I’m the one baking a damn cake over here, don’t I get anything?” Frank interrupts the moment between Matt and Karen. 

Karen breaks away from the kiss and turns her head towards Frank Castle. She sets her hands on her hips and shakes her head. “You’re also the one making all the noise, aren’t you?” She asks. 

“He’s making the noise, he knocked over several pans getting out the cake pan.” Matt confirms. She snorts and shakes her head as she rests her head on Matt’s shoulder. She stifles a yawn against his t-shirt as Matt’s arm comes around her. 

“Traitor.” Frank snaps. “I can’t find anything in this damn kitchen because someone who doesn’t even cook a damn meal can’t just put things in normal places. Cake pans don’t go in the top cupboards, they go in the bottom cupboards.” His rant goes on for several minutes about the proper placement of things in a kitchen and Matt and Karen can’t help but just laugh. 

The Punisher is complaining about where Daredevil stores his kitchen appliances. 

Karen can’t help but grin. Two years ago, Karen couldn’t have imagined that this was the situation she’d be in. There still wasn’t a real label on the relationship, but whatever it was, it worked. 

When she yawns again, Karen makes the decision that is not time for her to be awake. Even if she has no idea what time it is, she knows the sun is still down and that means she doesn’t need to be awake. “I’m going back to bed, keep it down.” Karen says to the both of them. She turns around on her heels to walk back towards the bedroom. 

Matt walks back over to the counter where Frank’s at and Karen turns to look at them when she’s standing back at the door to their bedroom. “She didn’t even tell me she loves me.” She hears Frank complain. Even though she can’t physically see him doing it, the movements tell her he’s pouring the cake batter into pans. 

“I love you, Frank.” Matt says and there’s only a  _bit_  of a mocking tone to it. 

Frank moves away from Matt and puts the cake pans into the oven, turning to look at him once he’s set the timer. Karen can just barely make out Frank’s lips turning up in a smile and his ears redden. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Red, I love you too.” 

Karen smiles as she shuts the door the rest of the way and climbs into the bed she shares with Frank and Matt. Considering all the ways she could have woken up to a loud crash, she doesn’t mind being woken up before the sun wakes up by her boyfriends making her a cake for her birthday.


	2. “Fuck…I feel I’ve been hit by a car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank/Karen/Matt + “Fuck…I feel I’ve been hit by a car.” asked by freshbrainss on tumblr

Karen’s favorite thing about being with Frank and Matt is the contrast between touches. Frank’s touch is almost always rough but that’s by default – his hands are rough, worn from use and life. Matt’s touch is gentle, like he spends too much putting on lotion but Karen can’t recall the last time she ever saw him putting on lotion. She always knows whose hands are on her even when she can’t see their hands, just by their touch. She calls it a talent, but it isn’t really one.

Frank hands are resting just below her breasts, his mouth on her neck, her back is pressed up against his chest. Matt is in front of her, his hands resting on her hips, his mouth on her throat. His fingers are pressing so hard into her hips she knows it’s going to bruise. She doesn’t mind. Karen lets out a moan and leans her head back and towards the left to give them both more access to the spots they’re focusing on. 

Matt’s hands come up her stomach and move over Frank’s hands to find her breasts, moving around the back to find the clasp on her breasts. He undoes the clasp and pulls the fabric off of her, discarding it somewhere. “You’re beautiful,” Matt murmurs against her throat, gently nipping at the spot on her throat. “Isn’t she beautiful, Frank?” 

“Most beautiful creature I ever lied my eyes on.” Frank says,  moving his hands from under her breasts to over her breasts. He squeezes her breasts roughly and grinds his groin against Karen’s ass, allowing her to feel the effect she’s had on him. Karen gasps softly and rocks her hips back against him, trying to find figure out who to put her hands on. She wishes she had more than two hands. 

Matt’s easiest for Karen to get her hands on, so she starts with Matt. She pushes his t-shirt up his chest until Matt’s hands are gone from her side and are in the air so his shirt comes off. She tosses it to the side and moves her hands down over Matt’s scars. There’s a new one along his side, but she doesn’t question where it comes from. She doesn’t want to know. Matt and Frank are constantly forming new scars with no real explanation where they come from. 

Karen knows where the scars come from, their nightly activities, but she doesn’t need to hear the stories about them, though. The less she knows the better. She feels bare skin against her back and realizes that sometime during Karen pulling Matt’s shirt off, Frank’s shirt comes off too. “Please,” Karen gasps, trying to reach for one of them. Both of them. 

“Please what, ma'am?” Frank murmurs, his teeth digging into her earlobe. One hand moves down her front and slips into her underwear, rough fingers running over her wet folds. Karen cries out softly and pushes her hips into Frank’s hand. 

“Fuck, fuck me, touch me, do something.” She pleads. The sentence is enough for Frank and Matt to suddenly be off the bed, the sounds of zippers and jeans falling onto the floor before they join her again, hands and mouths on her again. 

It’s a flurry of touches, of mouths on her skin, sucking and biting. Karen’s going to be covered in hickies and finger prints the next day and she’s going to be sore the next day. She’s going to lean over the counter with a coffee mug in her hand, murmur ‘Fuck, I feel like I’ve been hit by a car named Matt and Frank.’ and Matt and Frank are going to grin at each other over their shared newspaper.


End file.
